


The Reality of Dreams

by Dana



Series: Without You, What Would I Be? [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: A touch of emotional whump, Hank is a good guy and he's so in love with Connor it hurts lol, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Game, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Pre-Slash, Soft Character Interactions, anxiety???, this is still pre-slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 13:24:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15607233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dana/pseuds/Dana
Summary: Connor has a bad dream, and Hank tries to make things better.





	The Reality of Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know what to say about this one. Inspired by what was supposed to be a throwaway line in the first chapter of This Is The Way, The Only Way. Hank's pov. Set sometime in between A Day in the Life and This Is The Way, The Only Way. Just, thinky!Hank and some angst, and then some good feels. Enjoy.
> 
> Bit of beta/hand-holding by a person who shall go unnamed. They know who they are :P

It's sometime after midnight, and Hank's awake. No all night drinking binge this time, just an intense urge to piss. He even washes his hands after he's finished, it's the _principle_ of the matter. Well, that, plus it'd be nice not having to deal with Connor berating him for his lack of proper hygiene come morning, for fuck's sake.

He's still getting used to it, being sober more often than not. Used to be, he spent as much time drunk as he possibly could – to avoid his feelings, to avoid the past, living in an alcohol-fueled fugue state of his own creation. And it had always worked. The times he's nearly gotten himself killed...

He stops before stepping out into the hall, puts his hand on the door frame. He remembers another night, just a handful of months ago, when Connor had stopped by because of a case, only to find him at rock-fucking-bottom. He thinks about it, sometimes, just how fucking close Connor'd come to finding him dead on the ground. Win, lose… which would it have been? He'd played that game enough, clearly whatever luck was keeping him alive had to be close to running out.

Sometimes he even wonders what that would have done to Connor, finding him like that. Sure, he should just pop the question, it's really no big deal: 'Hey Connor, remember when you found me passed out after playing Russian Roulette? Now, picture this – '

But, it's not like Hank really wants to know.

It's like he's always fighting it, not letting himself fall back into old bad habits. Connor being there hadn't completely wiped the slate clean, the _urge_ was still there. He drinks, but the end game has changed – Hank's not looking to end black-out drunk. There's something oddly nice about starting the day in the morning instead of the afternoon. Even better, going to work without that ever-present hangover kicking him in the face.

And yeah, it's true, he's got Connor to thank for all that.

Connor.

Hank stares out into the darkness of the living room. There's pale light streaming out from his bedroom, so he can make out the shape of the couch, plus there's the soft blue glow of Connor's LED, like a beacon in the night. Hank sees it, and smiles. See, just knowing Connor is there, it gives him a reason to smile. He's still a cantankerous old fuck, but Connor reminds him it's okay to sometimes be happy.

It's been months since Connor first moved in with him, and sure, it's been a growing experience for the both of them. Hank, used to being on his own with just Sumo for company, was a creature of habit, and a bit of a recluse. As for Connor, he'd still been figuring out just what it even meant to be alive. Still, Hank had meant it when he told Connor he could stay at his place, and for as long as he wanted. And sure, sometimes Connor would sometimes bring up finding a place of his own, just to get out of Hank's hair – but Hank was always quick to change the subject, and anyway, maybe Connor was testing the water, just to see what Hank would say. (Don't go, don't go, don't _go_.)

And yeah, that makes him a selfish bastard, Hank not wanting Connor to leave. Sure, if Connor really wanted it, Hank would let him – he's not trying to hold him here against his will, for fuck's sake – and yet, still, he changes the subject, each and every time.

Hank offered him the couch to crash on but it wasn't like Connor actually slept – well, at first, Hank wasn't really sure _what_ he did, but he'd quickly learned and he was weirded out by what he had found. He'd stumbled onto him a few times when he was in stand-by mode, and him just sitting there, his LED barely lit, his stare wide-eyed and blank, it sure as fuck had creeped him out. Connor had started lying down soon after that, though what he'd said was that he'd noticed he was bothering Sumo, and Connor just couldn't have that. Maybe he'd even figured out it bothered Hank, too, and old!Hank wouldn't have been too concerned with telling him the facts. This Hank, the Hank that Connor had been living with for months, was scared of doing something stupid, or saying something even stupider, and being the reason that Connor finally left.

Four months. Sometimes it seems like only a day, other times it feels like years. Maybe if Hank finally got off of his ass and cleaned out Cole's old bedroom, Connor could – 

Ah, fuck, _no_. He's not ready for that yet.

So yeah, he's a selfish old fuck, but he's glad Connor's here. Not just because Connor helps him out around the house (Hank's told him he doesn't have to do that sort of stuff, but he still cleans, and he cooks, he took care of Sumo, too); Connor makes Hank's entire life feel a little less like a pile of absolute shit. Sure, Hank knew it couldn't last, and he hated feeling like he was taking advantage of Connor in any way. But he went back to work and still made time for all the bullshit around the house that Hank would never stop insisting he didn't need to do.

Hank's not even going to lie about it, since he'd only be lying to himself – he needs Connor, he knows he needs Connor. He doesn't actually know what he'd be without him, well, other than dead already, given his track record. Connor's there for him, he's always there for him. And Hank knows he started living again because of Connor, and sometimes, he thinks – 

Well, he leans on Connor for so much, Connor's always there when he needs him, right fucking there. He hopes Connor knows, Hank's there for him, too. He doesn't know where to start. Sure, he'd punched Perkins in the face to give Connor a chance to find Jericho, but it's not like Hank's reasons then had been 100% altruistic.

Finally, finally, he pushes away from the door frame, but almost immediately stops. He'd heard something from the direction of the living room, and maybe it's late and he's still tired but he's sure it couldn't have come from Sumo.

No, this had to have come from Connor.

'Connor?' No answer, nothing verbal at least, and Hank was having a slightly harder time seeing because Connor must have moved around, his LED isn't showing anymore. A few seconds pass by, tick, tick, tick, and he hears that little sound again, only this time, since he's actually paying attention, he's able to make it out: a panicked whimper, small and cold in the black of the room.

He takes a few steps into the living room, calls again. 'Connor?'

Connor's a pretty light 'sleeper'. He's got it set up so that any number of disturbances will snap him right out of it – Hank should be annoyed that Connor's that level of paranoid about things, but really, it's nice to know that Connor even cares. He wouldn't have been surprised if Connor was set to wake up _just_ at the sound of his voice, but he must be wrong.

Only, Hank's said his name, but it's not like he's woken up. Well, maybe, since Connor was clearly in distress, he hadn't heard? Or Hank was just making stuff up, and maybe it was true that Connor had a bit of a paranoid streak when it came to all things _Hank_ , but it wasn't _that_ bad, right?

Yeah, which is why he'd broken that window, all those fucking months ago, when he'd thought Hank was dead on the kitchen floor. _Right._

'Hey, Connor, are you – '

Another whimper, louder this time. A flash of light from Connor's LED as he shifts about on the sofa, flipping onto his back. It's red, _dangerous_ , shining brightly, and Hank gets hit in the chest with a punch of ice-cold fear. Connor's light doesn't flash red just for any old thing, something must be seriously wrong. And Hank, well, he blinks a few times and his feet start moving before his head catches up with him.

Connor moves again and this time Hank can see him. He curls in on himself, desperate and small, and he's clutching at his own arms with hands that are showing the white of the plastic underneath. Hank didn't often get to see Connor without his skin in place – it was different, yeah, a little weird, but nothing that freaked him out. Hell, _Connor_ was weird, but that didn't even freak him out either – well, he probably could, if he really put his mind to it. Connor's pretty, too – why would CyberLife do that, make him so fucking _pretty_? Ah fuck, Hank didn't need to go and think things like that. Connor's his friend, and right now, Connor's in _distress_.

Connor's LED continues to rapidly cycle, red, red, _red_. His lashes are flickering, almost as if he's struggling and failing to open his eyes, and Hank's in the process of stooping down and reaching out, carefully, when he freezes at the small, absolutely pitiful and panicked cry, wordless but fucking heartbreaking, that's just slipped out of Connor's clenched teeth. Hank knows he needs to do something, do something quick, but his thoughts are spinning as rapidly as the light that's flashing at Connor's temple.

'Hank!' Connor bolts upright with a shout, gasping and shuddering, and Hank startles and falls backwards, landing with a loud _oof_ on his ass.

Connor's rapidly blinking, looking about from side to side and then _down_. He takes a few shaky breaths, maybe to try and cool himself off, maybe to calm himself down. He frowns when he sees Hank down on the floor (his hands, Hank notes, have returned to normal).

'Lieutenant, what are you doing…?' He trails off into silence.

'You scared the fuck out of me and I fell over.' He starts to push himself up, and Connor – even as he keeps on shaking, as the tears well up and then start pouring from his eyes – offers Hank one of his hands to steady himself with, helping him to his feet. Hank clears his throat, and after he's standing, he shrugs. 'You were dreaming… having a nightmare, I guess.'

Androids being able to dream, Hank was still getting used to that one. It was new for Connor too, since he'd only downloaded the proper updates a few weeks back. Hank wasn't too clear on the technical details, but basically, it turned Connor's stand-by mode into something that better simulated human sleep. It even let him dream, and from what Connor had said about it already – he'd said a whole fucking lot about it, actually – he _loved_ it.

'I – ' It's a little startling, watching as the mask slips into place, the one that cracks immediately because Connor's crying too much, too hard, to keep it in place. 'I didn't… I'm sorry…' He hugs himself, curls inwards as he turns, like he's trying to make himself seem even smaller than he actually is. 'I didn't mean to wake you.'

Hank's moving slowly again, now, because Connor's startled already, distressed, and he doesn't want to make it any worse. 'Don't worry about it, Connor – I was up already.' Very, very carefully, he sets a hand down on Connor's shoulder. 'Hey, you're awake now, you're alright.'

Of course he's not alright, he's still crying, lifting a trembling hand up to wipe at his face, but it doesn't stop the flow of tears, it doesn't do him any good at all. He takes another deep breath, stuttering and slow, and closes his eyes as Hank takes a cautious seat to his right. 'It happens sometimes,' Connor whispers. The light as his temple is still flashing red.

Hank's surprised, this was the first he'd heard about it – but it made sense, in its own sick way. Hank preferred to keep his own bullshit private, Connor probably felt the same way. Stubborn fucks, the pair of them.

And Connor would have kept on not saying anything about it, if Hank hadn't accidentally found out.

'This wasn't the first one?'

Connor shakes his head, lips pressed together, like he's afraid of what's going to come out next. Hank was still trying to process how, since it was something Connor had downloaded right into his own head, if it caused him that much discomfort, why the fuck would he keep it around?

Yeah, even that made sense. Some things, you liked them so much, who gave a fuck if it caused you some sort of harm. Connor was pretty damn good at doing it the human way, and knowing that made Hank's chest ache.

He goes to give Connor's shoulder a friendly squeeze, just to reassure him, when Connor finally opens his mouth to say something – only, instead of a word, what comes out is a sob. It punches straight through Hank's already aching chest, breaks his fucking heart. He knows androids can cry – it's no big deal, right, CyberLife made them to be as real as possible, after all (must have been a real hit with the child models… and probably, now that he's thinking about it, with ones like the Tracis). But he's never actually seen one of them sob, and this is _Connor_ , so it's hitting him deep.

'Hey, hey, you're safe now, Connor. Whatever it was…' He gives Connor's shoulder that squeeze he'd been meaning to, then pulls him over, into a one-sided hug – not that Connor tries to push him away, no, he goes right with it, collapsing against Hank's chest. He's slow to move, unwinding his arms from where he'd had them clutched to his chest. Hank feels his arms stretching around him, how he holds on tight. He shakes as he cries, and Hank holds him tighter, not knowing what to do. Sometimes, Cole would cry, and Hank would try to make it better – and, fuck, _whatever_ , why does it even matter, Connor isn't _Cole_.

He hugs him, rubs his back, and suddenly wishes he'd been wearing a heavier shirt because Connor's tears have already soaked through the thin fabric of the worn out old one he'd thrown on earlier that night. Fuck it all, he's no good at this, but he's not gonna let something small like that get in the way of him trying his damn best. 'Whatever it was, it's gone now. You're okay, Connor. You're safe.'

Connor doesn't say anything, just tightens his hold, face crushed into Hank's shoulder as he cries; and Hank, he's left feeling absolutely useless. All he's doing is hugging Connor, and letting Connor hug him, and repeating himself a whole fucking lot, because he keeps telling Connor he's safe now, nothing's gonna hurt him. He doesn't know what else to do, he doesn't like how that makes him feel. The seconds keep on ticking by, turning into minutes, and Hank's starting to get a crick in his back, but there's no way he's going to tell Connor off and go back to bed. He's rarely seen Connor so emotionally vulnerable, so human and breakable, and fuck, he doesn't like it one bit.

The sobbing eases off, slowly, from loud bursts of it to something softer, small, pained whimpers, ones that stomp about in the dust of Hank's already shattered heart. Connor's hands are still holding on, claw-like, at the back of his shirt, and his shoulder's fucking _soaked_ from Connor's sobbing. Still, as Connor lifts his head up, Hank finally gets a look at his face. Lucky android. He's been crying his eyes out but there's no obvious signs of it, other than the tears. No red-rimmed eyes, no snotty nose. Still as pretty as ever, just a little more... wet.

'Better?'

Connor leans back, takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes, then lowers them, and lets that breath right back out. He nods, but he's still a little uncertain, but his LED's flickering between yellow and red now, but to Hank it seems like he's finally started to calm down.

'You feel like talking about it?'

Connor's whole entire body stiffens as he quickly shakes his head, LED flashing red in his panic. The answer he gives, however, is oddly calm, because all he says is 'No'.

'Okay, okay. I'm not gonna make you.'

He nods, still stiffly, but Hank gives him a squeeze and Connor relaxes into it, leaning into him. Hugging seems to be something he can't fuck up, so he turns his head into it, breathes in Connor's natural scent, that and the android-specific care products that he prefers to use. Hank bets he could get the stuff unscented if he wanted to, but he doesn't. Right now, he smells a little like lavender, and mint, with a little something extra Hank can't actually place.

'You could always uninstall the update…'

Connor shakes his head, though this time not as quickly, 'No. No, it's… I like it, mostly. I like being able to dream, just… you can't get the good without the bad, I guess. I'd rather have it than not, Hank – it makes me feel… more complete.'

'Okay… alright, if that's what you say. It's your head anyway, I was just offering a suggestion.'

'I know, and I appreciate it, Hank. Thank you.' A few more tears slip down his face, but for the most part, Hank feel like he's finally calmed down, his LED slowly, so slowly, cycling between yellow and blue. Still, what sort of nightmare could he have been having… what was he dreaming of, that made him shout _Hank's name_ when he finally woke up? Had something happened to dream Hank, or was it simply that Hank was the person he reached out to automatically in times of deep distress? Ah, fuck. That made him feel warm all over. Maybe Connor really did know Hank was there for him, always.

Anyhow, hugging him is nice. Stability – fuck. It's not what Hank's known for, but at least he can offer him a hug if that's what he needs. It certainly feels _right_ , him being there – it always does. The first time it happened, Hank had pretty much immediately asked Connor to come _live_ with him.

Connor's calming down, and as he continues to relax, he gets a little bit heavier, leaning into Hank with more and more of his weight. 'Hey.' Hank give him a gentle shake, and he pulls back, blinking slowly, almost as if he was actually sleeping, that, or all of his processors were starting to lag.

'You uh, wanna sleep in my bed for the rest of the night?' Hank's not even sure where it comes from, other than a deep, unspoken desire to keep Connor _close_ , and he's got to be opening himself up to some serious levels of hurt, because what if Connor says no?

Connor quietly considers his answer, tilting his head to the side. 'Only if you're not putting yourself out and making yourself sleep on the couch.'

'Hell, no,' Hank replies, maybe a little _too_ quickly. 'I mean, if that's alright? I don't think my back would survive a night out here.'

Connor's mouth twists up into half a smile, and Jesus, Hank's heart skips a few beats as he's filled with a completely new desire, sudden and burning: to kiss Connor, right then, right now, and he's not even completely sure why (yeah, sure, Hank, keep telling yourself _that_ ). But he shoves the thought away, the way he has to shove a whole lot of them away. When it came to Connor, he's pretty much certain, all the damned time, of where he stands – but sometimes, sure, Hank thinks he'd like that to change.

'Thank you, Hank. Then yes, I'd like that a lot.'

Don't blush, don't blush, _don't blush_ , and lucky for Hank his body decides to play nice. 'Probably gonna have to fight with Sumo to get a good spot, but…' But, he really doesn't know what else to say, almost as if he's said too much already. 'Come on, let's go.'

Connor nods, then lifts a hand up to scrub at the tear-tracks still drying on his face, and Hank grin at him, start to loosen his hold on him – he doesn't freak out or anything, because if he had, Hank would have pulled him right back in. 'Should probably take a detour to the bathroom first, wash your face off.'

He nods again, really smiling now. 'Okay, Lieutenant. I will.'

So Hank starts to get up, but he doesn't completely let go. Now that he was standing, Connor was still holding on to Hank's arm, like he was some sort of lifeline, one that he was desperately afraid of letting go of. Of being left behind. Gently, but firmly, and without even a hint of irony, Hank tells him, 'I'm not going anywhere without you, okay?'

That makes him smile all over again, and he stands up, pressing close, clinging to Hank's arm with both his own wrapped around it. 'Okay. Thank you, Lieutenant.'

'Hank,' he mumbles in reply. God, he feels ridiculous, but at the same time, he feels _good_.

And Connor's smile broadens a little bit more. 'Hank.'

Hank lets the clinging happen, doesn't push him away. Because he could, but it's not what he wants to do. No, he needs Connor, he knows he needs Connor, and at least some of the time, Connor needs him, too.

**Author's Note:**

> lol I can't even


End file.
